Compromise
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Eli David was forced to make some difficult choices when raising Ziva, especially when ponies were concerned.


Disclaimer: Nothing can stop the Smooze.

Spoilers: Minor for _Enemies Foreign_.

Summary: When tiny assassins are denied what they want, bad things happen.

* * *

In his career with the Moussad, Eli David had been shot at, interrogated, tortured, blown up, called by telemarketers and confronted by terrorists. He had never been more frightened in his life than he was right now. And in his own home, no less! What had started out as mere angry pouting had rapidly progressed to crying, screaming, tiny fists pounding the tile hard enough to make him concerned (for the tile) and now…now… He made a rapid circuit around the island in the kitchen, temporarily blocking his view with the hope that everything would be resolved by the time he…no. He threw his hands in the air. "Are you just going to sit there and let her do this?"

Rachel shrugged from her stool at the counter, never taking her eyes off her book. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Something! Anything!" He rapidly paced between the kitchen and living room, forgetting the drink he had poured the moment he had arrived at home. "She is turning blue!"

"She will start to breathe again once she loses consciousness."

He couldn't understand his wife's casual attitude toward their daughter's impending medical crisis. Her small fists were already beginning to unclench as she beat the floor with less force. "And this is a good thing? What if she doesn't wake up? What if she has brain damage?"

"It has never been a problem before."

"This has happened _before_?" He suddenly felt that his whiskey was not merely a trapping of the relaxation he was supposed to feel upon arriving in his home. He snatched his glass off the counter and drained it. The rush of heat through his chest did not magically solve the current drama. "You just allow this to happen?"

"Yes. Perhaps if you were here more often…"

"Don't start. Ziva is two…"

"Three," Rachel corrected, never looking up, "and a half."

He felt self-conscious, suddenly wondering what else he had missed. No, it did not matter at the moment. "Regardless, she is old enough that she should not be behaving in this manner."

"I agree, but I have spent far too much time trying to fight David stubbornness."

"What is that supposed to…?"

"It means I have learned my lesson. I will no longer fight fate."

"Do not make this…"

"Eli, we can either raise her to be a proper young woman or a Moussad operative, but not both."

"What kind of agent…?" He tried to picture any of his colleagues holding their breath until they passed out. No self-respecting Moussad agent would try something so stupid. Although it would certainly be a shocking turn of events… He leaned down to find a pulse on his suddenly still daughter's neck. "And now she has blacked out. You are telling me this is normal?"

"How would you know what is normal around here?"

"How often does this happen?"

"This is the first time in quite awhile." Rachel smirked and flipped a page. "She has already figured out that it will not work on _me_."

Eli felt trapped. They had had this argument too many times. He would try to explain that he was gone so much because he was trying to keep his family safe, she would complain he was just making excuses… There was no point in retreading the same ground now. He did the only thing he could do – he poured himself another drink, less ice this time. As he sipped his second whiskey, he glanced around and decided not to ask where his favorite chair had disappeared to. He sank into the sofa with the upholstery he hadn't liked. "Where in God's name would we keep a horse?"

"Nowhere. It would not be practical." Rachel casually closed her book and stood. She was gentle as she leaned down to pick up Ziva, who was beginning to stir. "However, we have been considering getting a dog for some time. Perhaps, when she wakes up, you could tell her that it will be _her_ dog. Then you can get your ass to the shelter and find one that is not vicious, though I am sure you would consider training a feral dog to be a character-building experience."

He was torn between undirected rage and concern for his unconscious toddler. "Our daughter throws a tantrum because she cannot have a pony and you want to reward her?"

"A pet of any kind will teach her some responsibility. That will be a positive thing in the long run, yes?"

"Yes, but…" He threw back his glass to finish his second drink. "This is all Yoel's fault. Let her pet the ponies, of course, give her a chance to ride them when she visits. But what makes him think that telling her she can _have_ one is a good idea? Why couldn't he just tell her she could…I don't know, name the next pony born?"

"He is _your_ brother, Eli." She was rocking Ziva in her arms. "He will keep trying to spoil her until he has children of his own."

"So what is stopping him?" He hesitated only briefly before retrieving the bottle to refill his glass, skipping the ice altogether this time. "He should have some children then focus on ruining their lives before meddling with mine."

Rachel disappeared into Ziva's room for a moment and came back without their daughter, who had likely exhausted herself with her tantrum. "Speaking of your children…"

He sank back onto the sofa. "Please, I do not need to hear that Ari has…"

"I am pregnant, Eli."

He had to act quickly to prevent his drink from spilling as he shot up from his seat. "What?"

"Four months. I had an ultrasound last week. It looks like another girl."

Eli froze. "Four months ago I was…."

"Here. That was during your disciplinary hearing, remember?"

"Yes, but…" He tried to reach for her, feeling as if he needed to offer something better than shock in reaction to the news, but she was walking across the room.

"Ssshh." She knelt and held out her arms as Ziva abruptly staggered down the hallway. "Come here, baby. You made yourself very upset, didn't you?" Eli was too far away to hear his daughter's response as she buried her face in her mother's shoulder. He sighed and grabbed the whiskey bottle, deciding that a glass was superfluous. Perhaps he could be a hero in his own house tomorrow when he brought home a new puppy.


End file.
